


god forgive me please, cause i want you on your knees

by Victorian_Asylum



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (a service top), Beau is a big ol lesbian, Body Worship, F/F, In which Beau gets to be a top, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorian_Asylum/pseuds/Victorian_Asylum
Summary: After taking an interest in Beau, The Bright Queen requests a private meeting.





	god forgive me please, cause i want you on your knees

**Author's Note:**

> Lord help me, I'm back on my bullshit

Beau is used to people scrutinizing her every move and word. Despite being a genuinely, if a little rough around the edges, honest person, people tend to take every word out of her mouth as a lie. So, she isn’t surprised that the Bright Queen wants to investigate the strange mercenary group that wandered into her court, with a beacon stuffed inside their bag. She is surprised, however, that the Queen wants to question her, and her alone.

Beau fights the urge to shift from one foot to the other. She’s been in situations similar to this, alone in a room with an authority figure, but those almost always ended in a prison sentence, or the heavy threat of it, and somehow this doesn’t feel the same.

The Bright Queen’s office is opulent, carved out of polished white marble that shimmered. Her desk was gleaming crystal accented by inlaid pearl. The entire room is lit by soft blue lanterns, hung from marble columns along the sides. The whole thing should have felt cold and sterile, but it didn’t. Behind the desk, behind the rich red leather of the chair, were rows and rows of books, most in languages Beau didn’t know. Further back, a door, heavy oak stained a lovely purple. Beau can hear the soft soothing trickle of water in a fountain somewhere nearby but she cannot see it.

The Bright Queen sits in her chair, hands folded. There are quills and ink and important looking papers, all placed neatly and meticulously across the sparkling surface. The Bright Queen looks at her with a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re a curious one.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s said that about me. Is this because I’m from the Empire or because I’m human?”

“Both, and neither. You said rather curious things in our meeting, but you let others do the talking. Still, you seemed largely unhappy. What is it you wished to have said?”

Beau went to cross her arms over her chest, before thinking better of it. Her arms instead hang awkwardly at her side. “It’s not about what we said it’s more about… how we did it.”

The Bright Queen raises a single eyebrow, urging Beau to continue.

“Look, we came here to bargain with you, okay? It’s not like we were trying to con you, we just really needed to get our friend’s husband and that was the closest shot we had.” Beau watches the Queen carefully for any hint of emotion, but she remains neutral. Better than angry, at least. “I’m mad because we fucked it up.”

“You got what you wanted, no?”

“We did but we looked like idiots. We know nothing about you, this country, anything. We didn’t know that guy saw us at the border and thought we were killing your people. We had nothing going for us as we stood before the throne of the most powerful person in this whole fucking place. You never meet with someone when you’re that far out of depth. It’s common sense.”

Now the Bright Queen seems more intrigued. “Common sense for who, exactly? Nobles, perhaps. Business minded individuals, military tacticians, certainly. You are none of those things. Most mercenaries blunder their way through politics, relying on perceived fame and power to help them overcome any bargaining deficiencies. Your associates did. But not you.”

Beau stands a little straighter, determined not the let it show how badly she fucked up by revealing this much. She is walking a very fine line and she knows it. “Yeah, well, they never listen to me anyway. They usually think I’m lying.”

“Are you?”

“No. But it sure sounds like it, huh?”

The Bright Queen smiles. “Perhaps to an untrained ear.” She places her hands flat against her desk and stands. Even devoid of her ceremonial armor, she still cuts an imposing figure, tall and proud. “Clever as you are, I have trussed lies from those with far more tricks to them. Someone who speaks truths with the tone of lies is trivial to understand.”

Beau knows she should feel affronted at the jab. She’s a damn good liar when she wants to be. But she isn’t. Instead, she suppresses a shiver at the Bright Queen’s tone, at the hard edge in her soft voice. A clear warning, should Beau or anyone else try to deceive her. “Well, that’s a first.” Beau says, if only to distract herself from the way her face heats up.

“Indeed.” The Bright Queen rounds the corner of her desk, stopping in front of it. Her shoes mark crisp, distinctive claps across the tile. “Miss Beauregard, why are you here?”

Beau frowns. “To talk to you? The guards that came and got me said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes, but why are you here?” The Bright Queen’s tone shifts ever so slightly, a little sharper, with something imperceptible hidden beneath.

Beau thinks back to an hour prior, when guards had knocked on the door to the home and informed her that the Bright Queen wished to speak with her personally. Beau had gone because she couldn’t exactly refuse. They had a tentative relationship forming, and no one could afford to jeopardize it by casually brushing off an invitation. Beau hadn’t known what the Bright Queen wished to discuss, after all, it could have been a job for all she had known. Of course, when it boiled down to it, Beau had gone out of simple curiosity. A one on one meeting with the Bright Queen herself. A drop dead gorgeous monarch who had taken a personal interest in Beau. Why would she turn it down? Therein, of course, is the answer. “Oh,” is all Beau says as she realizes her own transparency. 

The Bright Queen watches, amused, eyes bright. “I see. Do you know why I called you here, Miss Beauregard?”

“To question me? Make sure I wasn’t some spy or some other shit?”

“Colorful, but not quite. The moment I saw you, I knew you were a perceptive one. So tell me again, why did I call you here?”

Beau thinks. And think. And thinks. She takes a glance around the room. If The Bright Queen had wanted to speak with her, she could just as easily have done in in the throne room. It wasn't as if Beau had any desperate secrets to reveal. Beau also knows that the Bright Queen’s personal guards did not stay in the room after letting her in. Strange, but perhaps different here in the capitol. Of course, it wasn’t like the Queen couldn’t easily kill Beau herself without breaking a sweat. Personal meeting, in private, no guards. Beau breaks into a smile before she can stop herself, then tries to hide it behind an awkward cough.

“Ah, a clever one indeed.”

Beau fights to keep her face neutral again. “Really? With me, uh, ma’am?”

“Yes, with you.” The Bright Queen’s eye flash like steel. “But allow me to be clear. You may be of the Empire, and you may not have sworn fealty to my dynasty, but you will address me with respect. Am I understood?”

Beau inhales sharply, a little light headed. All the blood in her body has decidedly rushed south. “Yes, my Queen.” She answers.

“Good.” The Bright Queen leans against her desk, elegant as ever. Her dress shifts and sighs with the movement, like a whisper. Her arms are at her sides, hands splayed across the desk. Even casual, she still looks so regal. “Now, kneel before me.”

Beau does as she is told, first on one knee, before deciding against it, and dropping down to both. Her pulse pounds in her ears. This close, she can smell the flowery perfume of the Queen. Beau stares at the floor. She cannot bear to look up at the Queen for fear of combusting on the spot.

The Bright Queen moves, letting her dress slide across her skin. Slits along the side that Beau had not noticed before expose her long legs well up to her thigh. “Will you worship me?”

“By the Gods, yes.” The cool tile is a blessing on Beau’s heated skin, seeping through the fabric of her pants. She is surprised she can still talk, given everything, but she’ll take small victories.

The Bright Queen lets out a small laugh at her breathless tone, but when she speaks, its with cold steel. “Then do so.”

Beau starts with the obvious, movements slow and careful. She leans forward, takes the Queen’s heel in her palm and brings her leg closer. She presses a kiss to her ankle first, on the inside, just above the bone, before moving up, trailing her mouth across the Bright Queen’s calf, slow and warm and reverent. The Bright Queen’s skin is unimaginably soft beneath Beau’s lips. Here was a woman who had lived dozens of lifetimes, had seen the world as she knew it tear itself apart and be remade, but one might never know it. In this lifetime, all her scars were inside. Beau didn’t realize she had paused at the Queen’s knee, until her fingers found their way underneath her chin, tilting her head up to meet her gaze. The Bright Queen’s look is so soft and open Beau thinks she might die on the spot, right then and there. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah I’m just-” Beau pauses. It’s no use lying, but it also isn’t exactly setting the mood to admit she was thinking about the Queen’s previous lives. “Blown away by you.”

“Charming one, you are.” The Queen’s smiles down at her. She probably sees right through Beau, but she doesn’t press it. “This is not a command, Beauregard. You are under no obligation to do this, at any point.”

“I know. But I really want to.”

The Queen nods. “As long as we are understood. Now,” she taps beneath Beau’s chin, and Beau rises to her feet. “Show me why I chose you.”

With the Bright Queen leaning back, they’re almost the same height, with Beau a bit taller. It’s strange. In spite of this, Beau is aware of how very small she is in the grand scheme of it all, and in this moment, she likes it. For a moment, Beau thinks about kissing her, of capturing those full lips, slow and languid, slipping into heated territory, yet it didn’t feel like that of instance at all. Perhaps Beau has gone soft, but the idea seemed far too intimate. Instead, she brushes away silken hair and plants a kiss beside the Bright Queens jaw, just beneath her ear. Beau feels the fluttering pulse beneath her lips, ancient, royal blood that was beating fast because of her and her alone. She continues down the Bright Queens throat, over her shoulder, until she is met with the cool silken fabric of her dress. Beau pauses, raises a hand and traces the edge of the dress. “May I?”

“You may.” The Queen rises for a moment, and Beau steps back to accommodate her. The Bright Queen turns around.

It takes a moment for Beau to find the zipper along the back, small and hidden as it is, but when she does, she takes it in unsteady fingers and begins to pull down. With each part of skin revealed at the dress falls further off the Queens shoulders, Beau marks it with her lips like a blessing, beneath shoulder blades, across stern ridges of her back, above the curve of her spine. The Queen is beautiful, and radiant and a thousand words Beau could never bring herself to say without sounding like a lovesick bard.

The zipper stops at the base of the Bright Queens spine, and Beau takes hold of both halves of the dress as she eases it over the Queens hips. The Bright Queen steps out of it, then her shoes, and Beau carefully gathers up the dress and sets it aside on the desk. The Bright Queen returns to her initial position, and when Beau’s attention returns, she is struck by the realization that the Bright Queen is almost entirely naked save for her panties. The Queen watches her expectantly.

Worship. Beau’s never been the devout sort, never stood in temples or at altars and left her fate in the hands of a god. But a woman she could worship all day. She would gladly fall to her knees, press her praises into skin. Here, like this, was the perfect kind of divinity.

Beau kisses the hollow of the Queen’s throat, between her collarbone, traces the dip with the tip of her tongue. She moves down to one breast, leaves open mouthed kisses all around before taking the nipple into her mouth. The softest sigh escapes the Bright Queens mouth, and one of her hands moves to the back of Beau’s head, thumb stroking the freshly cut hair there. Beau licks and sucks on the Queens breast, earning more sighs and quiet moans. Beau lavishes the same attention on the other breast, circling her tongue around the nipple, taking her time and relishing the sounds she is drawing from the Queen.

Beau pulls away, dares a glance up at the Queen. The Bright Queen’s face is slightly flushed, a low purple hue settling in her cheeks. Her full lips are parted, the barest hint of a pant escaping. Even like this, she looks regal. Even like this, there is no doubt who is in control. Beau looks away, kisses between the Bright Queen’s breast to hide how painfully turned on she is herself.

Beau trails her mouth across the soft plane of the Queen’s stomach, idly notes stretch marks across her hips and atop her thighs, devotes attention there, before hooking her fingers through the fabric of the Queen’s panties and beginning to pull. The Queen lifts her hip as Beau slides them off and puts them next to the dress.

Then Beau finds herself back where it all began, on her knees in front of the Queen, open and waiting for her. Beau can see the Queen’s arousal glistening between her folds, slick heat waiting for Beau’s mouth, waiting to be pleasured.

Upon the opposite leg, Beau kisses the ankle, then the calf, working her way up past the knee, and this time, she doesn’t stop, mouth moving across the Queen’s inner thigh until she meets the apex. Beau parts the Queen’s folds with her tongue, running across the slit with slow, broad swipes of her tongue. The moan she earns is deeper, low inside the Queen’s throat and it sound heavenly. The Bright Queen’s fingers flex across the back of Beau’s head, a hint of nails scraping across her scalp and Beau suppresses a shiver.

Beau takes her time, strokes slow and exploratory, taking note of the Queen’s reactions, committing them to memory. Feeling bold, Beau looks up at the Queen as she works, holds her gaze for a few moments before Beau winks up at her and slips her tongue inside. The Queen’s back arches, and her head falls back, a filthy moan escaping her lips. 

Beau alternates between swiping her tongue up and down the Queen’s slit, and pushing inside her silken heat. She takes her time, enjoying the sounds she earns as the Queen is wound tighter and tighter, waits for the subtle shake in the Queens thighs before she takes her clit into her mouth, gently sucking, before flicking the tip of her tongue across it. The Queen’s hand on the back of Beau’s head becomes more insistent, pushing a little harder. Her moans become breathier. Beau focuses her attention on the Queen’s clit, licking and sucking on the stiff bud, running her tongue across it in steady strokes as she feels the Queen’s thighs begin to shake more and more.

With one last swipe of Beau’s tongue, the Queen comes undone above her with a shuddering moan, her release coating Beau’s chin, muscles tensing for a few moments before relaxing. Beau runs her tongue between the Queen’s folds, drawing every last bit of pleasure out until the Queen’s grip on the back of her head relaxes and Beau pulls away, breathing heavy. The Queen’s hand moves to cup her cheek, the gentleness of it all threatening to make Beau weak in the knees to collapse on the spot. The Queen’s thumb strokes across Beau cheekbone and Beau suppresses the urge to lean into it.

If the Queen was radiant before, her in her afterglow was something else entirely. For the briefest of moments, she looks as timeless as she is, and a selfish part of Beau can’t help but wonder how she measures up to countless previous lovers across countless lives. The Queen’s gaze is hooded and unreadable. There is gentleness there for the briefest of moments, before the royal mask slips back in place, and her hand falls away. “Clean yourself, Miss Beauregard, and return to your home.” 

Beau says nothing, on her knees before the Queen, and waits. Watches.

“Worry not. You will be rewarded. Help me dress, then leave me.”

Beau nods, takes the panties she is offered, slides them up the Bright Queen’s legs, feels her shiver where Beau’s fingertips touch heated skin. The dress is put on, Beau carefully zipping it up as the Queen holds her hair out of the way. Beau isn’t sure how re-dressing someone could be hotter than undressing them, but in this instance, it is. She chalks it up to the fact that she’s wound up tight enough that someone could kiss her and she’d probably fall apart. 

The Bright Queen turns around and fixes her with a tempered look. “Leave me, Beauregard. I’ve work to do. My guards shall fetch you when I am ready.”

Beau swallows and nods. “Yes, my Queen,” she finds herself saying, offering a shallow bow. 

The Queen rewards her with a small smile, before waving her hand. Beau exits the room, noting that no guards are posted immediately outside. She runs her thumb across her chin, gathers some of the slick, tastes it, reminding herself that that wasn’t simply the hottest dream she’d ever had. She really did do that. She wipes her face clean as best she can and steps out into the foyer, finds guards waiting there, and lets herself be escorted back to the house with the smuggest grin on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> How many song lyrics about being on your knees can I make into my fic titles?
> 
> Probably a lot.
> 
> Oops.


End file.
